Departures
by Sunsong
Summary: ElrondCelebrian. Elrond watching Celebrian's ship sailing and remembering her return from the pass. Not a happy little piece at all. Constructive crit., as always, appreciated.
1. Default Chapter

A/N: Yes, I know I should be working on my other two fics. I do know they badly need updating. Unfortunately, this plotbunny will not let me be. This chapter is meant to act as a stand-alone, though others' point-of- views may/may not be added later, MP [Muse Permitting]  
  
Unless noted otherwise, kindly assume that the beings here are speaking in Elvish. I have not been able to find an accurate dictionary (Grey-Companies is not accurate!), and so have been forced to use English.  
  
I have very specific characterizations for all I write about. If any disagree, please either review or email. sunsongsilver@yahoo.com  
  
Disclaimer: All Tolkien's, not mine, etc. Even all those hot men and elves in the Silmarillion.  
  
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I stared, looking over the sea, towards the West and towards Valinor. I gazed, until the sight of her ship was lost, even to my half-elvish eyes. She had left me. And she had promised she never would. I released her. I can see it now.  
  
****  
  
My sons came riding in, blood-stained, muck-spattered, a cloak-wrapped burden on Elladan's horse, which Elladan did his best to keep atop his stallion, yet not to touch. Elrohir's knuckles white as he clutched at the reins of his stallion. Both their quivers were nearly empty. I was standing on the balcony overlooking the entrance to the Last Homely House. As they rode through, something about that cloaked figure caught at my eye, yet I knew nothing more than that person was a female, and so tired she barely stayed mounted, yet flinched from any touch.  
  
Elladan held his horse steady as Elrohir dismounted and helped her down. She started to walk- and crumpled, making a small noise of distress. I turned swiftly from the window- I knew- what am I saying? I know that voice! I ran from the balcony, down steps, through rooms, hoping that what I feared had not happened.  
  
I hoped in vain. I reached the courtyard. My wife- it was her voice- lay in Elrohir's arms.  
  
"Ada," he began.  
  
"Later," I said. "Speak later, for now go in. I will take her from here." He handed her gently, as though she might shatter, to my arms. As I reached to take her, she flinched from me. I pretended to take no notice; there was no time. I bore her swiftly in.  
  
There are reasons a healer will seldom operate on one he or she cares for. There is none other with my skill, and so I put my feelings to the side, as I had before. I told myself I would not feel, not until this was done. When I hurt her, and I would, in the cleansing of this wound, I would feel the hurt later. I would cry later, for I must act now. Then, as I had before, I closed my heart and bent to my task. Elladan and Elrohir acted as my attendants. Arwen saw to Rivendell.  
  
I undressed her, and set about seeing to the wound in her side. The wound was poisoned, infected, and not recent. It would take much skill and time to heal her. At least it was a sword wound, not an arrow wound, and shallow. Elladan, after telling me what had happened, considerately did not speak. Elrohir had busied himself with my medicine chest. I would not have trusted myself to answer, and spoke as little as possible.  
  
We worked late that night. Indeed, over the next few weeks, my sons and I were at a remove from time. My daughter has little aptitude for healing, but she tried. The Eldar may take little notice of its passing, but notice they do. I only knew that every few hours I would wake, change the bandaging, and spend the next few hours keeping her fever from rising further, and using whatever resources I possessed to hold the poison in her at bay.  
  
Than there came a time when I, and my sons were all awake at once. And as we gazed down at her slumbering form, we knew that what we had accomplished would not be enough to save her. Her closed lids bore witness to that. Yet I had no more to give and our children had some time before this reached their limits. I knew, and they knew, that although the wound had scabbed over, the poison was trapped inside. And I had no more strength to combat it. I could give no more. Any further healing must now stem from whatever strength had not been leached from her by orc-poison. The wound had been left to itself too long. The poison had been halted, but it had already reached her lungs. I had but kept her lungs from constriction, and safe-guarded her heart and brain. Now, her breathing was labored, and there was nothing I could do. NOTHING! Nothing beyond an application of steam that made even Elvish hair become frizzy. I had become a healer so I could do something, so many Eldar had died- so many had died, and again I stood helpless.  
  
I did not know if she could hear me, but I took the chance. "Celebrian. Come back. Come back to us." I can be eloquent, but then, then when I would have said so many things, I was dumb. I smoothed some hair over her brow. Her eyes with their dark lashes were closed, bearing witness to her illness. "Love." The word felt strange. It is so little a word, so great a feeling. "Please return." I could say no more. The feelings that I had sealed away of necessity had grown like weeds to choke my breath.  
  
Elrohir placed a hand on my shoulder. I whirled. He drew back, startled. I made the effort not to cry. I could see the worry in their faces. I would be strong. Elrohir had drawn back, Celebrian had flinched away . . .  
  
I would not continue that train of thought. I held out my arms. Hoping, praying to Elbereth that they would not be too old, that Elladan would forget his dignity, that Elrohir would not object to so close a contact. . .  
  
They rushed into my arms. I tried to hold them, as I had when they were little (they had been so little at birth!), but I could not tell them "it will be well," as I had with the storms, and with the orcs "Elladan swore were under the bed, Ada, he did!" For I did not know it would be well. Even now, I cannot say it has turned out "well." I could not say "this storm will pass" or hunt out my sword. I could not know this storm would pass, and the only weapons (what mortals call magic, and herb-lore) I can wield in this kind of battle had been shattered.  
  
Soon though, I was clinging to my children as hard as they were clutching me. None of us spoke. I could not speak. I half-suspect they did not wish to. Oddly, Elladan enjoys silence and Elrohir possesses a great measure of tact. Too soon, it had ended. Elladan had remembered his dignity and Elrohir his dislike of prolonged contact. I turned back to the bed. Although I did not take her hand (she had flinched from me before), I fell into a chair by the head of the bed, and set myself to watch for any change.  
  
I had no weapons now. I had no more herb-lore. I thought I had no more strength. Elladan, and Elrohir were closer to an unwounded death then any Eldar has right. Undomiel, for all her strengths, can do little on this battlefield.  
  
"Go." I said, my voice raspy and harsh. "Go and sleep. I will endure." Elladan made as if to go. It was his younger brother, Elrohir, who remained.  
  
"Ada." I turned my head to look at him. "Ada, come to bed too. You are as tired as we. You too, need sleep. Arwen can watch."  
  
"No."  
  
"You have barely let her see our mother in all this time. Let her in." I bowed my head.  
  
"Then she may come," I gestured with my left hand. "But I will not leave this room."  
  
"Then sleep in the chair. But sleep!" He did not know how much his face and tone of voice fleetingly resembled his mother's, that night she had seen me with a new shipment of scrolls from Numenor. The thought was almost amusing. I gave him the same reply I had given her.  
  
"Soon." I was able to stay awake until my daughter came, then I became conscious of how tired I was, and how soft this stone chair was, and.  
  
***  
  
The sun was setting in a glory of orange and red and gold. She had promised never to leave me. They all had left. Ada and Amme and Maedhros and Maglor and my brother. Elros, who had known me, as few others had cared. He had been my opposite, my mortal half, we had joked, my shadow. He had been brash and foolhardy and foolish. He was also brave and honorable and intelligent and kind. But he was as unsuited to the lifespan of the Eldar as I am for a mortal life. And now she was leaving too.  
  
*~*~*~**~*~*~*~  
  
A/N: I seem to have this penchant for writing multichaptered stories. Ah well, blame the plotbunny. If you wish another chapter, you might consider feeding the plotbunny with reviews . . .  
  
*Turns to muse.* Why do all my stories take so long?! This was supposed  
to be ONE chapter. NOW look at it! I'll hafta' update, and all the rest  
of that stuff. Feckless flapdraon of a flippin' fewmet. And so on and  
so forth.  
  
*Turns back to bored readers. * Ah well. I was feeling angsty today.  
How much do you wanna' bet it shows?  
  
The only two words of Elvish I know: Ada is daddy and amme is mommy. 


	2. A start and an end

A/n: Thanks Mazokugrlsizer and isiswhit for the reviews. I am updating! I have been consuming sugar! Flee, mortals, before my hyper-ness!  
  
Disclaimer: All Tolkien's. All.  
  
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Elladan and Elrohir had mounted; Arwen had brought my horse. The moon had not been seen to rise- it was a cloudy night and would likely rain. Though it seemed time to leave, I would not go. Yet.  
  
********  
  
I drifted into consciousness with a feeling of stiffness and bleary eyes. I first saw Arwen sponging my wife down with water. I could see Celebrian was unconscious- and her eyes still shut.  
  
"Daughter." I said quietly. She finished her task and tucked my wife in again.  
  
"Ada. It is morning." I nodded. She is my youngest child, and most fair. Yet I only had eyes for my wife. I was aware of her drawing back a little from the bed, giving me room. Celebrian looked worse than she had the day before and the little blue shadows, forerunners of her death, had appeared in the hollows around her eyes and under her high cheekbones. I shook my head as I saw Arwen turn to the soup by my wife's bedside. By now I knew the poison had spread, yet I would not hasten her journey to Mandos. I would not prop her up. Instead, I sat on the edge of her bed. I would not touch her- I knew what she had been through- she would not welcome contact. However, I had slept, and had regained some measure of my strength.  
  
:Celebrian: I thought, calling to whatever remnant of her self remained, for I no longer had the strength to heal. :Celebrian: A higher voice, with less strength but more beauty - my daughter's- joined mine. :Celebrian!/ Amme!: Two other voices, I had not seen them come in, but with their voices heard, I knew it must be our other two children. :Celebrian/Amme!: Our voices were stronger and together we reached farther. Suddenly, I gained a sense of a presence. It was Celebrian. Yet I, and none of our children, had the strength anymore to reach her. In her mind we saw her, were barely more than a hand's-breath apart- and were unimaginably far from each other. She must reach out to us were she to live. Yet she was so weary, so hurt, that she flinched from our "faces." She had always hated seeming weak or afraid. I tried to keep myself from showing pity. I reached out a "hand."  
  
She flinched when she "saw" it coming towards her. She "looked" at it, and looked at our faces. The time stretched on. I grew apprehensive. I was starting to feel that indefinable something that heralds a death. If she did not take my "hand" soon, she could not be cured at all. It would grow too late even for her own strength, and I had no more strength to spend in standing there. Then, just before I must go (our children had vanished before, Arwen quickly, Elladan and Elrohir after her), she steeled herself and took it. Indeed, it was not dramatic, but effective. And as I returned to myself, I saw that we had clasped hands and that she was conscious. As she surrendered to a healing sleep, I saw that her shadows were no longer blue.  
  
I tried to stand up- and nearly collapsed. Arwen had caught me. I let her take me to my chambers, separated from my wife's only by a door, to rest.  
  
I could sleep now; Celebrian would heal.  
  
****  
  
Yet she had not, fully. She had gone to the West. And I was left once more alone. I mounted my horse and let him follow those of our children's to Rivendell.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
A/N: Maybe a chapter three. Who knows? 


	3. alcohol and a black eye

A/N: My muse has recently whacked me in the head with a very large and blunt object: The Wanderer's Staff. And so, I present for you (you may pay in reviews, thank you!) chapter three.  
  
Disclaimer: All Tolkien's. Besides, if you sue, I can only pay you in books. And I won't let them go without a fight. And I know my local poisons . . .  
  
Cheers!  
  
Sunsong  
  
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It was night. I leaned on my room's balcony and looked out the window, towards the west. There were no stars, but Rivendell was almost bright enough that I could practically see the clouds, the moon was obscured by a translucent veil of darkness. None would bother me tonight and I was alone and in possession of particularly horrible liquor. I am not proud of what I did next, with that particularly horrible liquor.  
  
***  
  
Celebrian had awakened and managed to cleanse herself of poison. I had had to reopen her wound to let it drain, but at least it was healing cleanly. Her body was healing well; it was her mind and heart I worried for.  
  
"Celebrian, eat." I would say at breakfast. Rivendell was a hum of chatter around the long dining table. Elves were talking, laughing- and one was attempting to recite limericks. Judging from the expressions of his friends, I would need to find some paperwork to occupy me during that particular presentation.  
  
"I have. Thank you."  
  
"Not enough. You hardly pick at your food. You must eat; I did not expend my strength so to have you die."  
  
She shook her head, "Perhaps- perhaps I am full." She rose as if to leave; I did not let her go alone and stood up from the great table with her. The talk ceased for a moment, then the Eldar determinedly resumed the chatter, in their efforts to ignore us making me, at least, feel more noticed than before.  
  
We walked down corridors and through rooms. Celebrian striding ahead, her head down, arms crossed, at quite a speed for one in such long skirts; I doing my best to keep up, for I would not lose her. She turned left, left again, right, broke into a dodging run. It would open up her wound again. For all I had pledged not to touch her, I ran after her and seized her arm.  
  
She whirled- and punched me in the face. I let go instantly. Celebrian looked up at me. "Elrond?"  
  
I saw confusion in her eyes. Blue they were, but changed colors with her moods. Now, they were so deep a sapphire as to seem black. "Yes," I said. "'Tis I, Elrond."  
  
"Oh," she whispered. And crumpled to the ground, sobbing. I bent down, unthinking, but,  
  
"Don't TOUCH ME! Leave me alone. Just, leave me."  
  
I let her run to her rooms. I had much to think on- and not only a black eye. I thought I understood why she had punched me, but why had she run? Were she mortal, I could understand. Perhaps- perhaps I did. I seized my robes in both hands and chased after her. Once again, afraid. And hoping dearly that my surmise would not prove true.  
  
****  
  
The alcohol was good. Numbing. I did not have to think about the West. About- I stifled the thought. Work was what I needed. Tomorrow I would see Erestor about the paperwork. But tonight . . . the barrel of mead was only half-emptied. 


	4. The lay of Luthien

A/N: What do you know, my muse is enjoying spinning this out whilst my other two fics atrophy. Ah well. Who knows, maybe this will be nice and short- but somehow I doubt it.  
  
Oh, and I don't think Numenorean wine was * that* horrible- I just needed someone to blame for it.  
  
Disclaimer: I need no disclaimer! I am Tolkien, risen from the grave! * is whacked in back of head by muse* Ok, ok- I wish I were Tolkien risen from the grave. In any event, Middle-Earth is still my own, my precious, paperback copies . . .  
  
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The liquor was nearly finished. Unfortunately, my head was still clear. Feh. That had not been my aim for tonight. I decided to go down and find another barrel.  
  
****  
  
My fears had, thank Eru, proved false; Celebrian was not toying with a knife or my letter opener. She was staring over my balcony, towards the West. She turned her head when I burst in, panting.  
  
"Elrond."  
  
"You are not-"  
  
"No," she answered, "I will not. I will not kill myself."  
  
I swallowed. "Good." Why could I not speak well? Why would she not look at me? "Celebrian," I knew no way to say this. "Are you- healing? Inside?"  
  
She turned her head, slightly. "In body, yes." Why would she not speak? "I do not know if I will heal fully in Middle-Earth."  
  
So, that was what she meant. She was thinking of leaving for the West. She had promised me she would stay. She had- she had only hinted- not asked.  
  
My voice sounded harsh. "You would leave." I paused, and then finished. "Middle-Earth. To heal."  
  
"Yes, dear one. But leave Middle-Earth. Never my children. And never you. I promised."  
  
"Yes, you promised me! But is that all that binds you here? I," here, I looked away. All I had loved had left me behind. And all that now bound her to me was an oath. We had sworn love. Had I chained her? Had I forced her too-  
  
She turned and went to stand before me. "Love." I let her see into me, all those doubts that one is afraid of saying, of speaking, lest they be real. "Yes, peredhil, love. It is love binds me, more so than the vow. Now, stop acting like a fool edain and read to me."  
  
"Read?"  
  
"Yes read. You select a book, you open it, and you read. Out loud. I would suggest the tale of Beren and Luthien." This took me back many years. She had come to visit Imladris. Celebrian had been shy, then, and was content to let her mother dominate conversations. But one night, I had been unable to sleep, and so had essayed a visit to the library. I enjoy being read to, but none reads to the Lord of Rivendell, etc. etc. And so, I read to myself- under my breath- but still so I can hear it. I selected the tale of Tuor and Idril from my bookshelves and began to read. And, as I came to certain bits of that tale that are not commonly told to children I heard a giggle. I swiveled my head around and caught a glimpse of Celebrian giggling softly to herself on one of the chairs. To conclude this briefly, we ended up in the library many other nights- only sometimes she read the parts of Idril and Tinuviel.  
  
I almost smiled then, and did as ordered. The tale of Beren and Luthien is one of Celebrian's favorites, though I prefer that of Tuor and Idril.  
  
"Yet in her choice the Two Kindreds have been joined; and she is the forerunner of many in whom the Eldar see yet, though the world is changed, the likeness of Luthien the beloved, whom they have lost." The time for lunch had come and gone; it was now time for supper. Some tension had dissipated between us. She almost smiled at me. I would have brushed her cheek with my hand, but-  
  
and then she lightly touched the bone around my eye with cool fingers. "I am sorry," she said, and left for the meal.  
  
*****  
  
Unfortunately, as I made my way down, I my daughter accosted me.  
  
"Ada. What in the name of Elbereth- have you been drinking?"  
  
"A little." Not enough, I could still speak coherently. "Some. Excuse me."  
  
"A-da!"  
  
"Yes?" I was trying to move down the stairs. Why did they keep moving about?  
  
"Enough. You've been drinking some of that latest horrible brew out of Numenor. You have drunk enough."  
  
"Good-night, Undomiel."  
  
I heard her sigh. "Good-night, Ada."  
  
And I went on my way for some more of that brew. 


End file.
